DISCOURSES 
AT NORW^ICH, VKRMONT, 



DURING THE 



(ibspqmpB 



OF 



COLONEL OF THE NEW-ENGLAND REGLMENT, 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND, 1848. 









L 








A 


SERMON, 






BY 


REV. JAMES DAVIE BUTLER, 








IL 








A 


EULOGY, 




BY 


GENERAL 


FREDERICK W. 


HOPKINS, 








OF Rutland. 





Repfmnted by 
Norwich University Alumni Association, 
1905 



24 Biujjv.jy Nt^w^urK 



DISCOURSES 
AT NORWICH, VERMONT, 



DURING THE 



(iba^qm^B 



OF 



COLONEL OF THE NEW-ENGLAND REGIMENT, 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND, 1848. 



I. 

A SERMON, 

BY REV. JAMES DAVIE BUTLER, 

IL 

A EULOGY, 

BY GENERAL FREDERICK W. HOPKINS, 
OF Rutland. 



Reprinted by 
Norwich University Alumni Association, 
1905. 



£1740 



3 



Gift 




S Je'05 



><f 




Coi_. Truman B. Ransom. 



PREFACE. 



The publication of the Sermon and Eulogy, delivered upon the oc- 
casion of the burial of the late Colonel Ransom, has been delayed 
by unforeseen and unavoidable causes. We are confident, however, 
that this lapse of time has not diminished, nor will it diminish the in- 
terest with which the numerous friends of Colonel Ransom will peruse 
these records, from the pen of private friendship, of his private and 
public worth. 

The friends of Norwich University will, none the less for this delay, 
feel a melancholy pleasure in examining with a closer eye the many vir- 
tues of the man who so long presided over the Institution, and labored 
so diligently to give it stability and dignity of character commensurate 
with the extent of its influence, and the importance of the objects of 
its founders.* 

Nor will these pages be without great interest, at all times, to young 
men — especially to such as must depend upon their own resources 
for success — as showing how much of influence and usefulness can be 
attained, early in life, by steady and perservering energy, when regu- 
lated by elevated principles of action and strict integrity of character. 



Norwich, July 19, 1848. 

*Norwich University was founded in 1819, and received its Charter in 1834. 
Those who founded it designed that its system of instruction should be such as 
should give the young men under its charge, the highest degree of mental culture 
attainable in the three years' time allotted for the accomplishment of its Collegi- 
ate Course of instruction. To prevent a waste of time, and any ill health which 
might possibly result from so severe a course of study as is prescribed, they es- 
tablished a military organization as a medium of discipline, and the surest method 
of giving a full physical development. 

Colonel Ransom was connected with the University as instructor, Professor, 
Trustee, Vice President, and President, successively, nearly all the time from 
the date of its Charter until his departure for Mexico, as Colonel of the 9th Regi- 
ment, in May. 1847. In the face of very many serious obstacles, he labored dili- 
gently to forward the objects of the Trustees. The dependence which results 
from such mutual relations, leads the friends and patrons of the University to 
hope that, while they themselves sympathize most sincerely in the loss thus sus- 
tained by others, that loss may be made to fall most heavily upon the University, 
by the encouraging aid of those interested in the full and perfect development 
of its plan. 



Norwich, Feb. 24, 1848. 

Dear Sir — At a meeting of the Committee of Arrangements, on the occasion 
of the funeral of the late Col. T. B. Ransom, holden on the 23d instant, the un- 
dersigned were appointed a Committee to tender you the thanks of the Commit- 
tee of Arrangements for the very eloquent and instructive Sermon delivered by 
you at this place on the 22d instant, and to request of you a copy of the same for 
publication. 

With high respect we are, Sir, your obedient servants, 

IRA DAVIS, 
DIXI CROSBY, 
To Rev. James D. Butler. JOHN WRIGHT. 



Wells River, Feb. 29, 1848. 

Gentlemen — Your letter requesting for publication a copy of the discourse 
preached at the funeral of the late Col. T. B. Ransom, lies before me. Although I 
have doubts concerning the expediency of publication, I yield my judgment to 
yours, and herewith send you the discourse, a copy of which you have done me 
the honor to request. 

Very respectfully, your obedient servant, 

JAMES D. BUTLER. 
Ira Davis, M. D., John Wright, Esq., 

Dixi Crosby, M. D., in behalf of the Com. of Arrangements. 



Norwich, Feb. 24, 1848. 

De.'Vr Sir — .\t a meeting of the Committee of Arrangements, on the occasion 
of the funeral of the late Col. T. B. Ransom, holden on the 23d instant, it was 
unanimously decided to express to you their thanks for the highly appropriate 
and patriotic Eulogy, delivered by you at this place on the 22d instant ; and the 
undersigned were appointed a Committee for that purpose, and to request a copy 
of the same for publication. 

With high esteem we are. Sir, your obedient servants, 

IRA DAVIS, 
DIXI CROSBY, 
To Adj. Gen. F. W. Hopkins. JOHN WRIGHT. 



Adjutant and Insp. General's Office. 
Rutland, 28 Feh., 1848. 

Genllemen — To your kind and flattering request I briefly reply : — Seldom has 
a man a right to make an apology for what he voluntarily undertakes; but it is 
sometimes urged upon from the effect of his position. In my official capacity I 
was requested to speak of him, who, when he left us, was one of the first military 
officers of the State, and my particular friend. I accepted the appointment, with 
short notice, and with an hour here and there snatched from a daily attendance 
in a Court-room, during a session, and with scant materials, it is performed. 

No consideration but the wishes of the relatives of the deceased, personally 
expressed, would induce me thus to throw out upon the public my first thoughts- 
of him whom all hearts loved, and whose loss all mourn. 

I discharged it as a duty to him and to yourselves. As such please accept it. 
With considerations of highest regard, I am, gentlemen. 

Your obedient servant, 

F. W. HOPKINS. 

To Col. Ira Davis, Prof. Dixi Crosby, John Wright, Esq. 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 



Named Truman Bishop, for a Methodist preacher, his mother's friend. Family 

from Lyme, Conn. 
Born at Woodstock, Vt., Sept. 20, 1802. 
1822. Entered Norwich Military Academy. 
1825. Graduated. 

Taught there and in Middletown, Conn. 
1830. Feb. 2, married Margaretta Morrison Greenfield. 
1835. Vice-President of Norwich University. 
1840. Democratic candidate for Congress. 
1844. Major-General Vermont Militia. 
1843-46. President of Norwich University. 

1846. Resigned. 

Enlisted in New England Regiment, 9th U. S. 

1847. Feb. 10, Major of New England Regiment. 
" Last of May, sailed with it from Newport. 
" July 1, landed in Vera Cruz. 

" Aug. 6, joined General Scott in Pueblo. 
" Sept. 13, killed at Chepultepec. 

1848. Buried Feb. 22, in Norwich, Vt. 



THE following sketch of Gen'l Ransom's life-history is derived 
from an excellent volume concerning Woodstock, Vt., made in 
favor of that town by the bounty of Frederick Billings who there 
spent his last score of years. 

Truman Bishop Ransom was born in South Woodstock, September 
2o, i8o2. His Christian name, Truman Bishop, — that of his mother's 
pastor, came to him from her. Several of his Ransom ancestors had 
been killed while soldiers in the revolution or in the war before it. 
Amasa, Truman's father, long a merchant in Woodstock, dying April 
30, 1819, left his family in a nearly penniless condition. 

At the age of thirteen, Truman was placed in the shop of Artemas 
Lawrence, of Woodstock, to learn the trade of chair-maker and painter. 
He was inclined to studious habits, and early showed a great eager- 
ness to acquire knowledge. Fortunately for him his master, Lawrence, 
was not inclined to discourage the young man, having himself some- 
thing of a literary turn. 

Ransom pursuing studies as he did in connection with his trade 
came by degrees to a great desire to give up his work as a chair-maker 
and turn his whole mind to study, and to this end applied to Lawrence 



8 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

to be released from his engagement. This favor, however, Lawrence 
positively refused to grant, but about the year 1818 removed to 
Queechee — a village not half as far from Norwich as his former shop, 
and took his apprentice with him. Roused by this proximity Ransom 
offered to labor for Lawrence every alternate quarter, and to do double 
the usual amout of work, provided Lawrence would allow him to 
attend the military academy half the time. 

Lawrence agreed to this arrangement and Ransom was enrolled as 
a cadet. Taking his fife — on which he covild already discourse excel- 
lent music, he played for the cadet corps while on drilling excursions, 
and in this way became a special favorite of Captain Partridge. For 
nearly three years this arrangement was in continuous operation. 

To accomplish all the labor brought upon the young man in this 
way, he was obliged to work early and late and forego many of the 
recreations enjoyed by his classmates, as well as to devote to toil many 
of the hours that ought to have been given to rest. 

After the death of Lawrence, Ransom taking his shop and business 
some six miles from Norwich, carried on the trade successfully for 
several months, manufacturing furniture enough as he thought to 
provide the necessary means for completing his education, — they 
being eked out by his fife, etc. At this juncture, alas ! a fire occurring 
in the building where his property was stored he lost everything. 

Saving less than a hundred dollars from the wreck of his earnings 
he re-entered Norwich, paid for his instruction by playing for its band, 
and for board by occasional work at his trade, till the Military Academy 
was removed to Middletown, Conn. There he was offered the profes- 
sorship of mathematics which he held as long as its local habitation 
was in that city. 

He then established an institution of similar character in Orange, 
N. J. This experiment made as a partner with his friend Dunbar, 
after two years of success was given up, owing to the death of that 
associate. A school on similar principles which he then set up in 
Fayetteville, N. C, within fifteen months had attained great prosperity, 
when a conflagration swept away six hundred buildings, including the 
Military Academy and every cent of its proprietor's property. Yet 
he was at once elected professor of mathematics and military tactics 
at Jefferson College in the State of Mississippi, and was often offered 
the presidency of that establishment. But as the climate proved un- 
favorable to the health of his family, he returned to Norwich, which 
thenceforth was his home till his ultimate departure to the war in 1847. 
There he begun and also ended his career as a teacher. 

Associated with the institution there he was immediately called up- 
on by officers in the militia in different parts of Vermont to drill them 
at their meetings for instruction. He proved so efficient that he was 
repeatedly urged to take high commands in the militia. As soon as 
he consented to serve he became captain, then colonel, then brigadier- 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 9 

general, and at length major-general. While colonel, he was selected 
by the governor and council to revise the military laws. He prepared 
a plan for an entirely new organization of the militia — which though 
at first objected to was ultimatley adopted in 1839. 

The war of Mexico was not approved by the citizens of Vermont as 
a whole, nor did many from Woodstock take part in it. But when the 
Ninth regiment was formed of which Colonel J. B. Ransom took com- 
mand no difficulty was found in raising for it one company in Vermont. 
Of this company Kimball, then a Woodstock editor was appointed 
Captain, and in the same company Fairbanks also of Woodstock en- 
listed and was made sergent-major. The regiment was attached to 
Pierce's Brigade in Pillow's division under General Scott, and 
reached Vera Cruz about the first of July, 1847. 

Kimball proved a good soldier and on several occasions by a display 
of valor drew a favorable notice from his commander. Both Kimball 
and Fairbanks took an active part in the storming of the fortress at 
Chepultepec which took place the thirteenth of September, 1847. 

On the west side of Chepultepec, some little distance from the fort- 
ress was a forest of Cypress-trees known by the name of Montezuma's 
Grove. This grove had been cleared of the enemy's skirmishers and 
and occupied by the storming party under Col. Ransom. Between 
the farther end of the grove and the foot of the ascent on which the 
castle stood, was an open space four or five rods wide. Col. Ransom 
was the first to dash across this open space, and Fairbanks the second. 
It was while gallantly leading the charge up the ascent that the colonel 
was struck by a bullet from the outworks and killed. 

(H. S. Dana, P 524). 



SERMON. 



"All ye that are about htm bemoan him ; and all ye that know 
HIS name say, How is the strong staff broken and the beautiful 
ROD." — Jeremiah 48: 17. 



I WOULD fain be a silent mourner at these obsequies. Not only 
do I appear before you, a prophet in his own country, but my 
present abode is far from the best sources of information re. 
specting my theme, and I have had no titne to supply my deficiencies 
by correspondence. I consent to address you, because I feel assured 
that you will "piece out my imperfections by your thoughts," and that 
if anything be said amiss you will let the winds bear it away. 

Every feeling cries aloud for expression. In common with other 
feelings, grief burns to incarnate itself in significant actions ; it strives 
to pierce the chambers of its imagery with windows No death is 
without its knell, pall, and mourning weeds. In an ordinary bereave- 
ment, nature prompts us to external symbols of woe beating respon- 
sive to the sadness within. It were then inhuman to give no sign of 
grief when bereaved not only of kinsman, townsman, and friend, but 
of one wh) touched life and society at so many points, and who fell 
by a tragical death, afar off indeed, yet not so far but that his body 
returns to seek burial among us. Alas how changed ! Can the force 
of contrast go further than than in his voyage outward and homeward 

bound. 

Ay, turn and weep, 'tis manliness 

To be heart-broken here, 

For the grave of earth's best nobleness 

Is watered by the tear. 

A little more than twenty-five years ago, he for whom we now 
mourn, was a poor, friendless orphan in South Woodstock. Not con- 
tent with obscurity, or rather prompted by the wish, the dream, the 
fond desire, to know, he repaired to the Seminary in this village. From 
poverty he was constrained to pay his tuition, n the way that Gold- 
smith was enabled to travel over Europe, namely, by the exercise of 
his musical talents. He was also early befriended by the founder and 



Truman Bishop Ransom. ii 

principal of the seminary, a teacher whose proteges may be found in all 
departments of public life. Young Ramson drank of the fountain of 
knowledge, not only here but at the institution in Middletown, and 
elsewhere. 

Did I not tell you that which ye yourselves do know, I should enter 
into details where I now content myself with allusions. Elsewhere, I 
would speak of personal advantages vouchsafed to only an elect few. 

"A combination and a form indeed, 
Where every God did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man." 

Need I speak to you of these things? Need I assure you that 
our friend was not like Nireus, of whom Homer sings that he was the 
most beautiful of the Greeks, but adds no syllable more. Have you 
not known that the gifts of nature, costing no study, industry or effort, 
seemed to Ranson but accidents, and nothing his own save what he 
owed to himself? Though to a great extent self-educated, he was so 
good a scholar as to be often supposed a graduate of West Point. 
Within a few weeks he has been so represented in a leading Boston 
paper. 

How shall I fitly speak of him who lies before us as a husband and 
father? The smiles, and sweet discourse and gentle deeds, the thous- 
and decencies that daily flowed, the home where supporting and sup- 
ported dear relations mingled into bliss, the fidelity to vows "sacred 
as the threads of life, secret as the privacies of the sanctuary, and holy 
as the society of angels" are worthy of sacred silence, and could be 
known only to intimates. But his conversational powers would seldom 
fail to manifest themselves to casual visitors. 

"His winning words did conquer willing hearts, 

And made persuasion do the work of fear. ^^^. 

It will not soon be forgotten that he was characterized by a gener- 
ous heart. Hence he took by the hand many a poor student ; he was 
affable and ready to communicate what he had learned. His greatest 
fault arose from an excess of that noblest of qualities, generosity. If 
he was ever unpunctual, unwise, double-tongued, or not just, he was 
led astray by having been too compliant and yielding. He was too 
prone to say with the ancient oriental, '•! am as thou art, my people 
as thy people, my horses as thy horses, all mine are thine." 

It had been easy to predict that such a nobleman of nature could 
not fail of friends, but I have been surprised to meet with so many de- 
lighting to honor him, throughout the Connecticut Valley and beyond 
the mountains which sever our State like a Chinese wall. I have found 
my acquaintance with him a passport to favor in the metropolis of 
New England and on the decks of our men-of-war. I have reason to 



12 Truman Bishop Ransc^m. 

believe him equally beloved at the West and South, and therefore 
class him among those whose death eclipses the gaiety of nations. 

"For them the voice of festal mirth 
Is hushed, their name the only sound." 

" The curse imprecated on his foes by the malicious Roman, "May 
you outlive all your friends," could not by any possibility have fallen 
on him. It is natural to expect a man of ardent feelings to be bitter 
against his enemies. But during all my acquaintance, I was amazed 
at the forbearence of our departed friend. In a community split into 
factions, amid gossip and the petty strife of tongues, vexatious as a 
continual dropping, he was more sinned against than sinning. By day 
and by night he was at his post of well doing. His feeling towards 
many adversaries seemed to be, "I am doing a great work, so that I 
cannot come down ; why should the work cease, while I come down 
and strive with you ?" 

He whose loss we lament never enjoyed the advantages of classical 
training. It was probably for this reason that he wrote so little, and 
that, in what he wrote, those inaccuries of style may be detected 
which men not conversant with foreign tongues can seldem avoid. Yet 
he was well read in the standard authors of his mother country's 
language and literature Not only was he a tasteful reader, but the 
best words of the best writers were in his memory, and so incorpor- 
ated with his mind as, when the occasion served, to flow forth as words 
fitly spoken. I have been surprised to notice how just, though inade- 
quate, were his ideas of many things in realms through which my 
wanderings have led me far beyond the sea. I have also been gratified 
with his rational curiosity concerning what he knew not in transatlan- 
tic regions. Of our own country few have had better opportunities 
to learn by personal observation and residence ; fewer still have im- 
proved such opportunities so well. Like most men of his sociable 
temperament, he learned more from conversation than from books or 
observation, especially as from his youth up he was thrown much in- 
to the society of intelligent men, and in the words of Lord Bacon, 
"Men are the best books." It was in part owing to this large inter- 
course with mankind, and his seeing that manner is a great matter, 
making or marring one's fortune in a moment, but still more a conse- 
quence of his generous disposition, that our departed townsman was 
proverbial for politeness, not that cruel, hard-hearted civility which 
leaves nothing to complain of, but everything to lament, but the minor 
morals of kindness kindly expressed. 

The man we are now to commit to the dust was extensively known 
as an engineer, a teacher, an orator, a politician, and a military officer. 
It may be fitting to allude to him in each of those capacities ; I say, 
allude, for the facts are of too public a nature to need more than allu- 
sions. 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 13 

I need not multiply details of that engineer, who, after completing 
his studies, turned theory into practice as one of a party that explored 
the Connecticut from source to mouth, registering their discoveries in a 
mammoth map ; who was not only called by a distant State to super- 
intend her railroad surveys, but was so far honored in his own country 
as to be employed by more than one company in his own neighbor- 
hood. What further testimonials does that teacher need who was ever 
ready to hear extra classes, even out of season, who was singled out 
from many candidates for a professor in the United States navy ; who 
was more than once elected a professor elsewhere; and whose face and 
form his pupils (as if with prophetic foresight of his fate,) so recently 
insisted upon placing under the guardianship of that divine art, which 
preserves the shadow, though the substance flies ? Is it not superfluous 
to assert that the man we mourn was no intellectual miser, no dark 
lantern of knowledge, but that he had, in a remarkable degree, over- 
come that infirmity which makes many learned men deaf mutes, or like 
watches which have no hands? Can I add to /lis fame as a 
speaker 

'•whose look 

Drew audience and attention still as night. 
* * * * from whose eye the thought 

Flashed lightning-like nor lingered on the way 

Waiting for words." 

You have heard him here, when you were vibited by one of the high- 
est functionaries of our national government, and on other public oc- 
cassions. You have heard the fame of his eloquence throughout New 
England and beyond its bounds. How many have feasted on the 
sweet food of his sweetly uttered knowledge. Surely my words can 
add nothing to the notoriety of a politician who was well known as a 
student and teacher of works on government, and concerning whom 
it is recorded in our history that he was supported by one of the 
great political parties which divide our State as a candidate for offices, 
both State and National, second to only one of those in the gift of the 
people of this commonwealth. 

But neither as an engineer, or orator, nor yet as a scholar, teacher, 
gentleman or statesman was Ransom so widely known as, alas ! in his 
military capacity. 

Of the military art, there can be no less acknowledged than that it 
furnishes peculiar scope for applications of the higher mathematics; 
that it turns knowledge into a power transcending all brute force ; that 
it thus insures usagaint againt the recurrence of barbarian invasions 
and Dark Ages, and that it has lessened the bloodshed of war. A 
commanding figure, and much practice in all martial exercises, secured 
the officer who has fallen undisputed eminence in the elementary por- 
tions of that military art. In its higher departments, he was judged 



14 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

by many capable of reaching a corresponding distinction, through his 
natural aptitude, mathematical attainments, and enthusiastic study. 
Many said, 

"List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 

A fearful battle rendered you in music. 

You would say : 'It hath been all in all his study.'" 

Even by political adversaries was he raised to the highest military 
rank in his native State ; he was placed at the head of more than one 
military school ; he was the author of an elementary military work ; 
yet, there being no avenue into the regular army for officers over twen- 
ty-one years of age, his ruling passion seemed denied its arena. 
Would to God it had been ! 

Yet whoever has seen him drilling a handful of cadets, has lament- 
ed the waste of such powers on scanty materials, as when he has seen 
an orator without an audience, or a poet with no means of penning 
his inspirations, or as when he reads of Napoleon as a boy in a mud 
fort. Whoever has beheld this fallen leader at the head of a regiment, 

" * * * and through the armed files 
Dart his experienced eye * * expert 
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway 
Of battle ; open when, and when to close 
The ridges of grim war. " 

Whoever has marked, how the inspiration that was in him spread as 
by contagion, yea burned in a multitude, has wished to see discipline 
doing its perfect work upon a mob of militia, not for one day only, 
but for many days. 

At length, for the first time in the lives of most of us, ani' nt 

for the last time in the lives of us all, the south wind, wont to blow so 
softly, changed to the blast of war. He who has perished so far off 
had many ties binding him here, family, friends, competence, pupils, 
love of ease, love of safety. These ties were not all at once snapped 
asunder, even by him who emulated Allen and Warner, no, not for a 
year. Still, it must be confessed, that the victim before our eyes was 
not brave enough to dare be thought a coward, and the deeds of his 
compatriots would not suffer him to sleep, and his ears rung with the 
war-cry ; 

"Now for the fight: now for the cannon peal ! 

Forward ! through blood and toil, and cloud, and fire !" 

He was offered the command of a regiment to which every State in 
New England furnished its quota, and in which many of his pupils and 
early friends were volunteering. Then, in an evil hour, in spite of all 
remonstrances and unforeseen obstacles, he accepted a commission 
and vanished from among us. 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 15 

You are doubtless as familiar, as I am, with the details of Ransom's 
career onward from his entering the army ; with what hot haste he con- 
centrated his regiment and embarked with them himself, the month on 
the ocean, the rapid advance in discipline, the march to Pueblo, the 
fatigues, combats, losses, and perils of guerilla warfare, the gallantry 
of the command in several actions, its growing reputation, and the re- 
ports of its colonel to his superiors. 

"Fair laughs the morn and soft the zephyr blows, 

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, 

That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prej'." 

The fatal morning dawns. First of the foremost, the chieftain scales 
the last height where his foes could make a stand, and looks down, for 
an instant, upon the conquered city. Tiptoe with exultation, he was 
pierced by the ball which, had he crouched like a coward: he would 
have escaped. He fell in a charge he might not have been ordered to 
make, had he not, prodigal of life, willingly offered himself. Life's 
fitful fever is over. 

"Farewell the plumed troop ! and the big wars 
That make ambition virtue ! O Farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steed ! and the shrill trump! 

It were unpardonable to say nothing in a religious point of view 
concerning him we have lost. He never openly enlisted as a soldier 
of the cross, and hence was not, in this important respect, what many 
of us wished. He conversed with me on the claims of religion after 
the death of one of his sons, and while smitten with another domestic 
affliction, as well as when confined by a fever about a year ago. He 
deplored that he had not been a follower of Christ, and, more than 
once, begged me to pray with him that he might become so. All the 
while I prayed, he clasped my hand. In his address to the last class on 
whom he conferred degrees, he enforced, not only morality, but regard 
to their relations to God as the one thing needful. It is possible that 
he may have been kept from a public profession by having seen too 
much made of sectarian peculiarities, or by the fallacy, that the power 
of godliness may co-exist with the denial of all forms of it, as if, while 
all other buildings need a scaffolding, the building of God needed 
none. That month on the mighty deep, disconnected with the world 
behind and before, that breathing-time between the acts of a crowded 
drama, doubtless raised his thoughts to Him who measured its waters 
in the hollow of His hand. Perhaps it led to such a recognition of the 
claims of God, and the Redeemer of His elect, as had before been never 
felt. Such a supposition is countenanced by his last letter, speaking 
of his ardent prayer for God's blessing on his son, and bidding him, 
with double emphasis, Fear God. I sorrow for the departed in the 



i6 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

darkness of fear, yet not without rays of hope that he may have died 
"as the stars brightly die whose death is day." Mindful of the admon- 
ition, "Judge not that ye be not judged," who of us will not have 
charity to say ; 

"Yes, Ransom, thou art gone. 
Gone like a star that through the firmament 
Shot and was lost. * * Thou art gone : 
And he who would assail thee in thy grave, 
O let him pause, for who among us all, 
Tried as thou wert and with thy soul of flame, 

***** ^-[i, who among us all 
Can say, he had not erred as much ?" 

Having attempted a sketch of the officer whose remains lie before 
us, as struggling for an education, as a husband, father, friend, student 
engineer, teacher, orator, politician, and military man, I now turn to 
those here who are by way of eminence mourners, and would fain utter 
words of consolation. All we, that are here congregated, come to weep 
with those who weep. We proffer you our sympathy which is of more 
power to divide sorrows than to double joys. May the responsive faces 
of this multitude prove consolatory, for all have known a fellowship 
in your sufifering. Your strong staff is broken, your beautiful rod. You 
do well to go unto the grave to weep there. Jesus wept. It is well 
said, "Sorrow for the lost is itself but another form of consolation." 
When the heart is full of longing for them it is but another mode of 
continuing to love them." 

He for whose loss you refuse to be comforted, died the death he 
wished to die — a soldier's death — -not by such lingering and excrucia" 
ting disease as makes men long for death, but it cometh not. He died 
in his full strength. He will live in your memory ever fair and ever 
young, deformed by no sickness or decrepitude. 

"And every lovely feature of his life 

Will come, appareled in more precious habit. 

Than when we live indeed. " 

He fell, not like so many who sail away and are never heard of more, 
"in the deep bosom of the ocean buried"; not as so many fell by acci- 
dent ; not like Montgomery in defeat ; not like Clay, butchered when, 
disabled ; but all in a moment, and, like Wolfe and Dessaix, in the arms 
of victory, It is not merely our sympathy that we proffer you, but the 
condolence of our State Legislature. Seldom has a more touching 
tribute been paid than by its resolutions passed without distinction of 
party. Need I speak of the minute guns in Boston, the flags at 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 17 

halfmast, the funeral car, the delegation from every volunteer 
company ? 

There is a tear for all that die, 

A mourner o'er the humblest grave. 

But nations swell the funeral cry, 

And triumph weeps above the brave. 

Your kinsman this day comes to his home, seeking burial by the side 
of the children of his love. If these consolations seem the small dust 
of the balance, be mindful that afflictions come, not from the dust, but 
from Him who never takes away what He has not lent. 

In common, worldly things, 'tis deemed ungrateful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, 
That with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 
Much more to be thus opposite to heaven. 
When it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

You are smitten by Him in whose sight life is too precious to be taken 
away, save when mercy consents to its sacrifice. Whom the Lord lov- 
eth he chasteneth. 

In view of the career of him we shall see no more, let every young 
man, who burns for self-improvement, take courage. Is there one here 
poor, despised, faint hearted? I say to him, sow in hope, and, in due 
time, you shall reap. Do well and wait, you shall be appreciated. Be 
deserving of worldly success, and, such is the usual course of Providence, 
you shall have worldly success. But strive for the crown that fadeth 
not, and verily, verily, verily, have your reward. 

Toward the close of the self-made Ransom's life, the seal-motto 
stamped on all his letters was, Try. The tongues of dying men enforce 
attention, and Ransom's words in his last letter to his son, are these, 
■"Improve yourself, my son, by every opportunity. Be faithful to your 
kinsmen as well as to yourself; go w^ith truth ever. Treat all men 
courteously and justly. Be industrious, temperate, and economical. 
Above all, respect the laws of your country and fear God." 

As we are here to pay the last honors to one who was so long, beyond 
all others, the pillar of the University in this place, I feel called, as by 
the spirit of the dead, to utter a few words respecting that institution 
— words I would gladly have spoken when I* last stood in this place, 
had I not then held an office which must have madfe me suspected of 
sinister motives. What but that institution has given Norwich a name 
throughout the length and breadth of our land ? Had there been but 
ten men as zealous, as liberal, as self-sacrificing, as its second Presi- 
dent, what a different institution it would be to-day! Had what has 
been wasted in vain jangling, been laid out in its aid, through its bdafd 



*The Preacher was then acting President of the University. 



i8 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

of instructors had been no better than it has been, how much more of 
sound learning, how much more of sahitory discipline, how much more 
of elevated character would have been the result I 

If the evils incident to a divided community shall lead, as in my 
judgment they should years ago have led, to the removal of the insti- 
tution to some other place more sensible of its benefits, every family 
in this town will suffer a loss. Losing you will lack. I speak not 
merely in a pecuniary point of view, though you know there would be 
a loss of that kind ; but of the loss of a Library, second, I think, to 
none in Vermont this side the mountain — the loss of instruction 
brought within the reach of all, blessings which will brighten as they 
take their flight. 

On the other hand, the University cannot become what the Presi- 
dent we are now to bury, watched, labored, suffered, gave of his sub- 
stance, and struggled in every way to make it, without conferring ad- 
vantages upon every family in the community. Will you not, in this 
regard, learn wisdom from your neighbors to whom Dartmouth is as 
the apple of the eye, and who have prosperity in its prosperity? Will 
you still aspire to the bad eminence of being a house divided against 
itself? 

The scene before us shows us the horrors of war. Armies refrain 
from hostilities while they inter the slain. When Isaac and Ishmael 
came together to bury their dead, we do not read that they entered in- 
to any altercation as to the jealousies vvhiched had raised their hands 
against each other. Seeing before me members of both political par- 
ties, I deem this no fitting occasion to blazon abroad the opinions 
which I, as an individual, hold concerning the Mexican war. But the 
horrors to which every war gives birth are now manifest to our eyes 
and will never have been enough contemplated till wars shall cease. 

It is more important to ponder the horrors of war, because we are 
prone to a one-sided view of its nature. In all our thoughts of war, 
there may be nothing but the zest it gives to enjoyment of tranquillity, 
the military renown it brings, the laudable defense of fireside, freedom, 
or life. Earth hides the slain, and our minds, forgetting the fallen, 
press onward with the victors. Poets favor such illusions, being 
usually guilty of blazoning evil deeds and consecrating crime. Of 
ourselves, we are apt to be engrossed in the struggle merely, the dis- 
play of c jurage, strength, combination, stratagem, genious wrestling 
with genious and striving for the mastery. Hence we are blind to 
consequences and the pomp of war has, through all ages, been full of 
enchantment. Thirty centuries ago the Trojan dames and elders sat 
on the walls gazing with rapture at armies set in array. The most 
colossal edifice of imperial Rome was built to exhibit war in the midst 
of peace by gladiatorial conflicts. Knightly tournaments absorbed 
the resources of the middle ages. The child's play, the mimicry of 
war, which we even behold in our highland homes, is not without its 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 19 



V 



charms. Witness the crowds we have seen at musters, and the lurk- 
ing complacency in military titles. But the fascinations, which gild 
the pageantry of war where standing armies are kept up, we cannot 
fully conceive. I have been a spectator on a parade-day in the Old 
World. It is a glorious sight to see, the canvass city of snowy tents^ 
banners that have floated over battle-fields, deep throated engines 
which might put to shame Jove's thunderbolts, the horse that swal- 
loweth the ground with fierceness, and men by thousands, all in their 
best years, with every hand, foot, eye, motionless as if dead, arrayed 
in the most imposing-dress which the wit of man has yet devised,. 
How much more is it, when the dead mass becomes instinct with life. 
and well-ordered files move on in silence, none of them weak, weary 
or stumbling, governed by the doubling drum, the bounding bugle's 
breath, long drawn and slow expiring, or 

'The notes of trumpets that, with quavering start 
On the smooth wind, come dancing to the heart." 

All individuality ceases ; men, officers, horses, artillery exist no more 
save as fractions of one machine, or members of one colossus vaster 
than the mountain-piling giants of mythology. 

With a hnndred thousand others, I once went forth from a great 
metropolis to see the storming of a real fort, an operation performed 
to acquaint soldiers with the processes of a siege. During weeks prev- 
ious, trenches have been opened, and batteries erected. There was a 
cannonade, sallies, retreats, men moving, in clouds of sulphorous smoke,. 
they know not why or whither. Then the gate was burst by a fulmi- 
nating mixture, the rampart blown in pieces by springing amine, and,. 
at that instant, storming parties, each six men bearing a ladder, leaped 
over the trenches, headed by "the full of hope misnamed forlorn, and 
scaled the walls, while the whole besieging force shouted so that the 
earth rang again. If such mock fights thrill the hearts of myriads and 
call forth men in nations to behold them, who can overrate the sorcer- 
ies of real warfare, so long as the splendor of a review, gay dresses^ 
(as if war -was more festive than peace) fame, promotion, the rapture 
of the strife, form a foreground which hides all that is dismal in the 
rear." — A great poet sings thus of a warrior standing in a garden. 
Everything that could be desired was presented to his eyes in one 
landscape, yet without contradiction or confusion, flowers, fruit, water,, 
sunny hills, descending woods, retreats into corners and grottos ; and, 
what put the last loveliness upon the scene was, that you might have 
supposed (so exquisitely was the wild and cultivated united) that all 
had somehow happened, not been contrived. Blossoms and fruit 
abounded at the same time. The ripe and the budding fig grew on the 
same bough ; green apples were clustered upon those with red cheeks; 
the vines in one place had small leaves and hard little grapes, and in 
the next they laid forth their tapestry in the sun, heavy with bunches 



20 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

full of nectar. At one time, you listened to the warbling of birds and 
a moment after, as if they had stopped on purpose, nothing was heard 
but the whispering of winds and the fall of waters. It seemed as if 
the notes of the turtle dove were deeper than anywhere else ; the oak, 
the laurel, the whole exuberant family of trees, the ear ^ che water, 
every element of creation seemed to have been compounded but for 
one object, and to breathe forth the fullness of bliss. The chieftain 
might have been the owner of this paradise, might have lived there 
with a bride lov ier than all the garden, but he forsook all for the 
flinty and steel couch of war. 

"The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade, 
And ever and and anon, in tones of thunder, 
The diapason of the cannonade." 

What a truth is mirrored in this fiction ! How is the fiend of war 
transfigured before men ! We see \X.s glory only, as our Saviour on the 
mount of temptation saw the glory of the kingdoms of the world, not 
their shame, guilt, misery, ruin. Plainly then is it our duty to lay up 
in our hearts what we now see of the curses of war. 

Where are the eighty young men who marched forth from this plain 
last May ? They went forth in gay uniform, as victims to the sacrifice 
garlanded — but shall a tithe of them return to seen their native coun- 
try ? 

"Green Mountain dead. Green Mountain dead ! 

On every hill they lie 
On every field of strife made red 

By bloody victory ; 
The bugle's wild and warlike blast 
Shall muster them no more." 

That mangled corpse, and ten thousand more, are victory. If such 
■slaughter, carrying mourning to a million hearts, be victory, what 
must be the agony of defeat ? In peace, says the oldest of historians, 
children bury their parents, in war, parents bury their children. In 
very deed, war is the contradictory of all the natural aims of life. It 
paralyses or misdirects industry. Its mission is, not to build but to 
destroy; It outdoes blight, mildew, frost, flood, fire, famine, and pes- 
tilence. There are churches with floors all made up of tombstones, 
and walls encrusted with the bones of men. More hideous than such 
charnel-house is a battle-field. 

'O shame to man ! devil with devil dammed 
Firm concord holds, men only disagree." 

In all history there is no lovelier scene, no better theme for poet, or- 
ator, or painter, than the Sabine women gliding as peace-makers be- 



TrUman Bishop Ransom. 21 

tween warriors armed for fight. Who then can be zealous overmuch 
to make an end of war? Who can pray enough to the God of battles^ 

"Till he, our fears to cease, 
Send down the meek-eyed peace, 
And, waving wide her myrtle wand, 
She strike a universal peace through sea and land." 

God intends that our eyes shall this day affect our hearts. Wha 
knows not that there is but a step between him and death ? But who 
feels this truth on ordinary days as he feels it now ? Since our deep- 
est impressions come through the senses, Lucien Bonaparte, when 
reasoning with Napoleon on his exposure to a downfall, wisely dashed 
his watch in fragments upon the pavement where they stood. Who 
of us that see this coffin will not feel his own frailty ? 

'Ye reckon it in days since he. 
Strode up that foot-worn aisle. 
With his dark eye flashing gloriously, 
And his lip wreathed with a smile ; 
O ! had it been but told you then 
To mark whose lamp was dim. 
From yonder rank of fresh-lipped men 
Would ye have singled him." 

In the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon men, he,., 
whom the clods of the valley will so soon cover, dreamed that he was 
in Mexico. This dream was while a fever burned his brain, and before 
he had decided to seek opportunity of going to the war. The dream- 
er seemed to himself at the head of a regiment, on a Mexican plain,, 
and exposed to a charge of cavalry. He threw his men into hollow 
squares, and exulted to see every man, such was the efficacy of disci- 
pline, making every movement, in the face of the foe, as if on the par- 
ade-ground. Squadron after squadron beat upon that fence of steel, 
like ocean surges upon a cliff, as furiously, as fruitlessly. Then, as 
the horsemen turned their backs, and the squares were deploying into 
line amid the thunder of the captains — all that followed was curtained 
from sight, shadows, clouds and darkness were upon it, for the dream- 
er awoke. He told me his dream, he vanished out of our sight. We 
heard of \n\xi safe from the perils of the sea, safe after heart-breaking 
delay upon the sickly strand, safe from the dreaded march, safe after 
drawing his sword against fearful odds, in his own words, '''■ unharmed, 
untouched in the decisive conflict three miles from Mexico" safe after a 
rumor of his death, safe after he thought the war at an end. 



22 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

"But his heart, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, was beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 
* * * * -x * 
With noisless step death steals on man. 
No plea, no prayer, delivers him ; 
From midst of life's unfiinished plan 
With sudden hand it severs him ; 
Ready, not ready, no delay, 
Forth to his judge's bar he must away." 

Tasso died on the self-same day that he was to be crowned in the 
•Capitol at Rome. But the coronation took place on the senseless 
dead body. The head was wreathed with laurel ; a magnificent toga 
delayed the shroud, and a procession was made through the city by 
torchlight, and painters crowded the bier to sketch the lifeless linea- 
ments. Such honors might be lavished upon this corpse, but to what 
purpose.were it? Unmatched in form, how art thou fallen ! how art 
thou cut down to the ground ! the worm is spread under thee, and the 
worms cover thee ! 

Ramson, framed in the prodigality of nature, has lost his life; shall 
we lose his death? Doubtless we shall, if we look only on the show 
and pomp of this day, if we bound our view by earth; but shall we 
not, if we look higher, even to Him who is above all ? What remains 
then for us but to humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God, 
whose judgments are a great deep, and who casteth down imagina- 
tion and every high thing? 

Now, therefore, O Lord, grant unto thy servants, here knit together 
in mourning and in burying our dead, full assurance and joy in the 
assurance, that while thou destroyest the hope of man, changest his 
countenance and sendest him away, and while clouds and darkness 
are round about thee, and thy pavillion is dark waters, yet righteous- 
ness and goodness are the habitation of thy throne. Amen. 



LcfC. 



EULOGY. 



WE are all here — the citizen and the soldier, the companion and 
friend, the father and the son. There is thought upon the brow 
— and sadness in the heart. Wherefore are we here — and why- 
is this sadness? 

Heard ye that bugle note ? Heard ye that gun, as its report echoed 
from hill side to hill side, and died away in the distance? Heard ye 
that shout, as it rose on the air, rolled along the valleys, and passed 
on? What tneant that note, but as the rallying signal for impending 
danger, or the redress of wrongs unavenged ! What meaning was 
conveyed by that gun, whose rapidly successive reports start the senses, 
and arouse the latent energies of the mind, but that the home of 
the free-born is assailed, and the foot of the stranger is on the hearth- 
stone ; or, that the honor of our country is tarnished ! Why arose 
that shout ! but to tell of victory, and death ? 

Heard ye it not — as sitting under your own vine, you peacefully en- 
joyed the blessings of a divine hand, and thought only of the petty 
trials of life, and wondered if the future would be as the past? Ye 
thought perhaps of the vicissitudes in the life of another, but that to 
you the sun would rise on the morrow, more pregnant with the pleas- 
ures of existence, than its many sittings had been. Your cultivated 
fields, your vine-dressed gardens told how you hugged to your hearts 
the home of your youth, the hearth-stone of your happiness, and the 
companions of your toil. 

The home-bird sat upon your boughs, and the lark called you forth 
to the daily orison, and the daily task. Nought but New England 
scenery surrounded your home — nought but domestic felicity filled 
your heart — nought but selfish enjoyment lulled the soul to quietude 
and peace. 

Ye heard it not ! Ye heard it not ! But there was one from your 
midst, to whom it conveyed a certain and significant import. He heard 
it, who now lies sleeping quietly there, with his shroud enfolded about 
him. He^ who was your citizen, your friend and your neighbor. He, 
who breathed with you the serene air of these hills, and with you en- 
joyed the pent up happiness of these valleys — surrounded with all the 
blessings of life, and bound to you by more sacred ties of affection, 
and love. He heard the far off gathering of the armed host, and 
the voice of the spirit, stirred within him, awoke, and broke forth into 
a cheerful and ready answer, responsive to the call. 



24 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

He looked forth around him. He perceived at a glance the claims 
of his country, of society and his home. Here, upon his own soil, 
shone a sun-light, than which no country or clime could boast a 
brighter, a calmer or more peaceful. He was everywhere at home — 
companionable with all ; in every man he found a friend. Yonder in- 
stitution — the child of his thoughts, his hopes, his energies, and his ex- 
ertions — stretched forth its hands in pleading accents for protection 
to its patron and parent. Society claimed him, his home, and his soil. 
Away from society — away from friends, away from his home, and all 
its endearments — from her^ who called him husband — from those, who 
with uplifted hands, and tearful eyes, called to him, "father, father, 
leave us not," from this blessed sunshine of heaven, and of his pros- 
perity and usefulness, he turned with anguish ; while in the far off dis- 
tance, in a clime fraught with disease and death, and where ihe sky 
was clouded with the smoke of a battle-field, and where volley added 
to the overhanging vapor, he descried through the misty chasm, sur- 
rounded with effulgence, and alluring light, one lone star ; it was the 
star of honor, and his State's pride — the star of glory and renown — the 
star of his country's fame, vindicated by his own prowess and success 
— his country, his own country, now and forever^M^ star of his own 
destiny. 

Soon was heard, echoing from hill to hill, the war-cry, "to arms, to 
arms for our country!" And along these valleys, where the foot-prints 
of a Warner and an Allen have not yet passed away, was he alone to 
hear that cry ? Nay, here, and there, and there, before you, were 
those who breathed something of the same spirit with hitn ivho lies 
there, and rallied to his call. In quick answer and patriotic haste were 
gathered the sons of Vermont, and in their prompt rally and zeal, was 
exhibited the spirit of New England. The pulse beat quick, and the 
arm was nerved. Thus went they forth — the strong, the brave and 
the free — at their country's call, and for their country's honor. Thus 
periled life, for a name to live. Alas how few there are, in the wide 
world around us, who are content to die and leave no name ! How few, 
in whom it is the ultimate hope, to spiing into being, wrestle through 
life, die, and be remembered no more ! Yet, what creatures are we of 
destiny ! How little know we of the object and end of living. Here 
and there, on the grand panorama of life, birth is given to genius, as 
though specially endowed as the direct offspring and favorite of 
Heaven. It struggles up into existence, and all along its pathway is 
marked by signs unerring, and not to be mistaken. Upward and on- 
ward is its course, and we follow its progress with admiring gaze, 
while difficulty after difficulty is surmounted, until it seems just ready 
to burst upon the world, in one resplendent beacon light, every ray of 
which would indicate a talent, a virtue, or an accomplishment to guide 
us over the trackless Ocean Wave of life. If ever a great design and 
object of being, and a providential end of existence were apparent, 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 25 

they would seem to be indicated here. It would almost sometimes 
seem, that upon such a particular instance of existence, depended the 
progression of societ)^ But suddenly, a faint whisper from the fiat of 
the Almighty is breathed^ and that light is dashed out forever ; we 
know not why ; we know not wherefore. Yet life moves on again, as 
though that light had never been — as though there was not one star 
less in the galaxy wide spread above us. 

Occasionally, under our own observation, occurs an instance of our 
general consideration. 

Do 3'^ou see that lad, with his wavy, dark hair, and his keen eye 
dancing with intelligence, truthfulness and mirth ; his satchel thrown 
over his shoulder, as he wends his way to his school, his mates and 
his lessons. He is descended from brave ancestors, who were all 
found aiding their country in the war of the Revolution ; and one of 
them bravely fell by the side of Montgomery in his fatal attack of 
"Quebec. And now at the age of ten years, and in this boyhood of life, 
has he lost a father, the protector of his youth, and the guide of his 
riper years. He is left penniless, and dependent upon his own exer- 
tions and his own brave heart. With an ambition beyond his years, a 
hope beaming up from the depths of adversity, with a manly courage 
and determination, he looks around him, observes his bearings, and 
then strikes out into the current of life, confident that his efforts will 
soon land him on firm standing, and enviable ground. He leaves his 
home and all that boyhood cherishes ; his mates, his mother, and his all. 
Ardent in his temperament and his hopes, he sees only the future in 
Its brightest perspective. With a less determined spirit, he would 
have exaggerated the obstacles that surrounded him, and turned back 
disconsolate and forlorn. But his career once commenced — progress 
once made, his ambition "'grows with what it can feed on," and he seeks 
at once to enter the arcana of literature, science and the arts. By me- 
chanical skill and toil, by industry, zeal and fidelity, relying upon his 
own resources, and, unaided by others, he commences a course of 
classical studies ; and, by a manly perseverance, and a strict economy, 
he successfully completes his academical course. The same ambition 
and zeal led him enter upon those studies embraced in a collegiate 
course, and especially the higher branches of mathematics. These he 
accomplished, and now stands forth in society a man among men, and 
not only in literature, and the practical sciences a scholar, but in the 
world at large, as a young man of general intelligence, virtue, and well 
fitted to adorn society. That lad, and that young man is Ransom. 

Such was his proficiency, his scholarship and his skill, that he was 
selected as one of four, the most advanced, to survey the Connecticut 
River, with all its difficulties; and his results are not surpassed, in the 
truthfulness of their delineations and the correctness of their design. 
Possessing the energy of character and acquirements that he did, his 
talents could not long be concealed. We see him next a teacher of 



26 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

Mathematics and Military Science in a High School in Connecticut. 
Soon a Principal of a Military School in New Jersey. Then in the 
same capacity in North Carolina. A Professor of Military Tactics and 
Mathematics in Mississippi. At length a Professor of Mathematics in 
the United States Navy. Thus far have we traced him ; and success 
and the affection of all communities followed in his footsteps. 

We find him again among us, as the President of Norwich Univer- 
sity. We all know with what zeal and energy he applied himself to an 
adequate discharge of the duties of this office. Here was called forth 
those powers which characterized him as a scholar. Here were mani- 
fested the developments of the moral man — tnat decision of character, 
uprightness of purpose, urbanity of manner, and gentlemanly deport- 
ment, which as a citizen and member of society opened to him the 
heart of all. Here daily were exhibited those affections of the heart 
that endeared him to his pupils, as the kind parent and guardian, and 
the faithful monitor and friend. Here shone too that military talent, 
which he possessed in an eminent degree. Perhaps, nowhere in New 
England, could be found a more systematic, correct and perfect tac- 
tician. 

The military art, to which, as making up a part of the character of 
Colonel Ransom, we are here called upon to allude, is something more 
than what the crude notions of the bigoted man, the man of limited 
views, or the calculating utilitarian would give it credit for being. It 
does not all consist in the imposing display, the military garb, and the 
tasteful appointments of war. These are but the insignia of rank of 
our day. and are in some measure the substitutes merely of the ancient 
and then more necessary armor of defence, made useful by their meth- 
od of warfare ; when the shock of battle and the clash of arms were no 
more figurative expressions. It does not all consist in the beautiful 
evolutions, as spreading out before us the imposing array, the accur- 
rate, yet rapid movement of bodies in change of position to meet the 
ever-changing scenes and circumstances of the battle-fiield ; and the 
march of column in beautiful deployment. It is a science, to the suc- 
cessful study of which must be brought a taste susceptive of apprecia- 
ting the beautiful and the grand; a mind capable of possessing and 
valuing the higher and nobler qualities of our moral nature. It em- 
braces within its limits many of the most useful and practical sciences, 
and unites them in one grand development of the physical man and the 
active, intelligent, and discriminating powers of the mind. Such a 
science, when carried out by its mathematical accuracy, by its philo- 
sophical knowledge, by its topographical correctness, by its historical 
information both physical and natural, into the useful and proper un- 
derstanding of the resources and defences of a country, brings with it 
upon that country a conscious security and peace ; and as a conse- 
quence, the progress of agriculture, science and the arts. With such 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 27 

a country will a foreign nation, with a knowledge of such resources 
and position, raise but few difficulties, and when raised will speedily 
adjust them. 

As such a science, did General Ransom study it. In this science 
did he become an enviable proficient ; and under his instructions, dis- 
cipline and skill, did it seem to be invested with new life and to develop 
new beauties. 

In 1839, he was elected by the Legislature to be General of Divi- 
ion ; and to this office he carried the confidence of the whole people. 
The militia system was for a time, the subject of hisfirst thoughts, and 
his untiring exertions; and his greatest ambition was, that among all 
the States of the Union, to Vermont should be given a system preem- 
inently the best, the most complete, and perfect in all its parts. To 
this end were directed all the energies of his active mind, all the influ- 
ence which he possessed. But a vitiated public sentiment, as faith- 
fully expressed by its assembled wisdom, frustrated his designs and 
rendered abortive all his efforts. He was well aware, that to the ig- 
norance of many of its officers, and to their want of application to a 
right understanding of its duties, the responsibilities it involved, and 
the instructions it imposed, was attributable much of the censure and 
prejudice, to which it had become obnoxious ; and by his presence, en- 
couragement, example and thorough drills, he endeavored all in his 
power to remedy the defect. And there were many who ably co-oper- 
ated with him. 

Of the political career and life of General Ransom, was there time 
to do so, I could speak freely, and with the highest respect and honor 
to his conduct and opinions, although I did not think with him. But 
it is characteristic of the people of Vermont, that when they agree to 
differ, they well know how to respect and appreciate the talents of each 
other. Unfortunately for the political preferment of General Ransom, 
he was in the minority in his native State. He belonged — in all his 
opinions, feelings, and associations, to that party, who openly and 
manly proclaim themselves to be the Democracy in our government ; 
and a noble specimen he was. His frequent nomination to the highest 
offices in the gift of the people, manifest a right appreciation of his 
talents, and does credit to the judgement of his party. 

In the war commenced with Mexico, it became necessary for the 
General Government to make a levy of men upon the different States 
of the Union ; and of this levy, for the raising of which one regiment 
was assigned to New England, and to Vermont one company. In this 
regiment, covering so large a territory, and consequently exciting a 
rivalry in zeal for the service of their country, an office in which was 
sought by all classes among the many States, which compose and claim 
that proud name. General Ransom was honored with the field office of 
Major ; an office which he accepted although far below his expecta- 
tions, or his merits. Soon after, while the recruiting service was vig- 



-28 Truman Bishop Ransom, 

orously pushed by the faithful officers already appointed, the promo- 
tion of Colonel Pierce, who had been appointed to its command, to the 
post of Brigadier General, made a vacancy in that command, to which 
Major Ransom was most justly and opportunely raised. With the re- 
nowned Pierce for its General, and the gallant Ransom for its Colonel, 
who could fear for the character of New England. 

In hot haste were gathered the boys of the Green Mountain State — 
in hot haste were they joined with New England's sons, and in hot 
haste were they launched forth upon the wide wave that bore them 
from their country, their soil, and their home, to a foreign clime, and 
a country that welcomed them not. Their farewells were quickly 
spoken, and their last words died upon the shore. They have gone, 
the father, the brother, the husband and the son. As those sails were 
wafted away from our sight, how many a home was left grieved ; how 
many a heart feeling its anguish ; how many a hearth-stone was left 
desolate. 

But here we must stop. From these homes of our fathers — from 
these mountains of contentment and peace — from these wide-spread 
valleys, where industry and happiness dwell, a voice calls us to the 
fields of Contreras, Cherubusco, Molino del Rey, and the fatal Chap- 
ultepec — a country scarcely revealed to us but through the misty med- 
ium of fable — a country with which is associated the city of the Aztecs, 
the Temple of the Sun, a Cortes, a Montezuma, the pyramid and the 
ruin — a country of the orange grove, the story and the song — but a 
country with which is more associated in our minds the disease of cli- 
mate ; the lone, abandoned sickness, with no fair hand to smooth the 
brow ; with the appalling thought of a far off home, and friends away; 
with the war cry, the fearful struggles and the groans of the dying, 
and the graves of the dead. 

Towards his regiment, from the time he first met them at Fort 
Adams, to the day of his death, there seemed to spring up an attach- 
ment, that increased with their intimacy, to an almost fatherly affec- 
tion ; and when in camp at Vera Cruz, many were its exhibitions in 
acts of the kindest attention to their wants, their comforts, and their 
feelings. Was there a soldier wronged ; promptly did he obtain for 
him the peaceable and manly redress. Was there one whose sick bed 
needed attention and care, he personally saw that he had it. Was there 
one who did not his duty ; he instructed his ignorance or kindly reas- 
oned with his inattention. Nor was his attention confined merely to 
the health and physical comfort of the regiment. All along they were 
reminded of the religious and moral influences that surrounded them. 
When service upon the Sabbath was practicable it was strictly enjoin- 
ed. All who survive will recollect, when, at Perote, the first Sabbath 
in August, the regiment was formed under the east wall of the castle, 
the hymns of New England were first swelled out upon that mountain 
region. In a word, he seemed to have a mind for every emergency — 
a heart for every duty. 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 29 

In following our friends through the land of the stranger, of the 
bold, the faithless, and the false ; through the way laid mountain pass, 
and the secret fore of the chapperal, we must know something of 
where we are. We must discard from our view the fair and open 
battle-fields of Europe, and our own land ; the beautiful array of 
armies, and the skill of strategy. And if we are selected to conduct a 
diversion, or surprise of our enemy, it becomes us to look well to our 
footsteps. On the one side is an almost impassible bog; on the other, 
a field of volcanic rocks and lava ; here, a ditch, and there, a ravine ; 
a narrow causeway in front is the only accessible means of communi- 
cation ; an aqueduct, a bridge to pass, a mound to overcome, or a para- 
opet to surmount. Many of these impediments were thrown into the 
case in the attack on Contreras, in the taking of which Colonel Ran- 
som was designated to the command of a brigade, composed of the 
Ninth, Third, Twelfth, and Rifle Regiments, for the purpose of a 
diversion or an attack, as the circumstances of the case should require 
It proved an attack, and at the appointed time he not only made the 
movement to divert and distract the enemy, but, after crossino- a deep 
ravine in his front, advanced and poured into the works and upon the 
fugitives many volleys from his destructive musketry. This was but 
one in the series of his gallant achievements. From this fort, into 
which he boldly led his command without rest, without food, he pro- 
ceeded on to flank the batteries of Cherubusco. The capture of 
Cherubusco, a strongly fortified convent, and a strong field work, was 
the result of the third signal triumph of the day. The citadel of the 
enemy followed in the conquest of our arms. At Molino del Rey, it 
became the sad duty of Colonel Ransom to see the wounded and dead 
collected and safely conveyed from the battle-field. This duty was 
most faithfully and nobly done, while a large force of Mexican Lan- 
cers, the advance guards of the enemy, were drawn up within fifty yards 
of the spot ; and while, too, within point blank shot and almost direct- 
ly under the castle of Chapultepec. Nor was he content merely to 
command on this melancholy occasion ; corpse after corpse did. he take 
in his own arms and convey them away to the ambulances, as if each 
one was the remains of a brother. Did ever commander do this ! — if 
so, tell me where I may find it. 

And now, Chapultepec lies before us — a strongly fortified post, high 
up on an abrupt and steep hill, and which commanded the City of 
Mexico, and its passes. "It must be taken," says the Commander in 
Chief. "It shall be taken," echoed the Ninth, and to General Pierce's 
brigade was assigned the advance, and to the Ninth, the coveted priv- 
ilege of leading in the attack. On this occasion, fired with gratitude 
and zeal, the ardent Ransom grasped the hand of his brave General,, 
and uttered the prophetic words, "I pledge my word to you, to lead my 
regiment into that castle or die." 

Previous to the battle, do our eyes follow hi«m as he goes the round 



30 Truman Bishop Ransom. 

of the camp, visits his brave men and compatriots in arms, and mingles 
his deep, kind voice with theirs in encouragement, zeal and hope. 

He assembles his officers about him, and with a flashing eye and a 
flushed cheek, he looks upon them with confidence, while he points 
them to their far off Green Mountain State, whose name is fast upon 
the annals of her country, whose flag has never been tarnished, and 
whose credit they are now to sustain. He reminds them of their 
State's pride and her honored dead, whose names are cherished by her 
sons, and is dust is embosomed in her soil. 

It is often an incident of war, that if a leader, in whose valor, wis- 
dom, and foresight, great confidence is placed, is picked off and killed, 
sudden confusion follows, want of concert of action, retreat, the rally 
is not heeded, and defeat ensues. Colonel Ransom was therefore 
strongly urged — that if he could not be dissuaded from leading, surely 
to throw off the badges of his office, and not permit himself to be a 
mark for the enemy. But he chose to advance as he was, and he es- 
teemed it the proudest moment of his life to lead the brave, the New 
England Regiment. 

On the morning of the 13th was his regiment drawn up in precise 
and proud disposition. And as he passed along the flanks of its col- 
umn, how familiarly and kindly does he notice by name every one 
known to him. And even in the excitment of the onset, how does his 
quick eye detect and approvingly encourage the conduct of his known 
and tried friends. "Sergeant Miller, I am glad to see you leading in 
the charge." He placed himself at their head ; he glanced his proud 
eye once on those upon whom he relied, and then turned with cheer- 
ing hope upon the flag that proudly waved above him. The signal 
was given, "Forward, the Ninth !" Then waving his sword, in encour- 
agement to the advance — he fell and died. A well aimed Escopette 
ball entered his brain, and ended his life without a struggle or 
groan. 

Thus fell a brave and an accomplished man. To the Army he was 
an acquisition, notwithstanding their prejudice to the new levies, as 
all that came under his command most effectually ascertained. To 
the State he was a loss, deeply to be deplored, for his talents, his ac- 
quirements, and his devotion, Among the militia, who is there that 
will espouse their interests with such heart and zeal ? In society, who 
will so deeply feel his absence as the citizen, and the neighbor? And 
in the home of the deceased, who can depict the lone absence of the 
husband, and the kind counsels of the father? 

We are all here — and the dead too, is with us. Wherefore are we 
here ? Wherefore is sadness upon our hearts ? He was there in his 
duty. He is here before you to remind you of the loss of your coun- 
try, of talents extinguished, and of his virtues only remaining. 

Lay him gently down in his quiet resting place ; raise over him the 



Truman Bishop Ransom. 31 

monument of your affections, let the tear be shed over his grave, and 
let the successive volley speak out our appreciation of his virtues, his 
valor and his renown. 

The breeze of the Norther, still sweeps o'er the plain, 
And the night-bird still shrieks o'er the dust of the slain, 
But time's whirling tide, like the deep sea wave. 
Shall not erase from memory the Vermonter's grave, 
O'er mountain and vale, the moonbeauis still play. 
And the sun still sheds it ephemeral ray, 
But, brighter, far brighter the star of the brave. 
As it mild lustre beams on a Ransom's grave, 



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